


Ruins

by Carol989



Category: Borderlands
Genre: Anal Fingering, Dirty Talk, M/M, PWP, Panty Kink, Rimming, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-03-20
Packaged: 2018-05-27 23:58:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6305482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carol989/pseuds/Carol989
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rhys loves wearing panties and Jack finds out. That was not the reaction he expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ruins

Is not that Rhys has a panty kink. It's just that, long story short, Rhys likes wearing them. They are pretty, comfortable, don't crease his work pants and he would be lying if he said they didn't look amazing on him. Maybe it is a bit of a panty kink, sue him.

One way or another, he never used them during sex before. Everytime he knew he was going out to get laid, Rhys would chicken out and put boxers. Usually he plans having sex, and, you see, this time is kind of a surprise.

You don't expect your asshole boss to suddenly come forth with all the flirtation and make out with you on a conference room. Rhys for sure didn't wake up ready to get dragged to Jack's penthouse and thrown on his bed.

It's not a bad development, oh, no. He was all in for letting Jack kiss him silly and grab his ass for fucking ever. Then, when a hand touches his fly Rhys remembers his little detail and all the magic is gone.

“Wait,” he scoots up on the bed, heart hammering, “I- uh, where is the bathroom?”

“You seriously wanna take a piss now, princess?” Jack sounds at least annoyed, his jacket had been discarded somewhere on the living room.

“No! It's just-”

Big hands grab his ankles and pull him down again, “Unless you wanna bolt I don't give a fuck. Are you quitting, Rhysie?”

Rhys only shakes his head, unable to create another lie fast enough.

“Great. Cuz lemme tell you, scooping someone's eyes with a spoon is fun and all but I don't do non-con,” Jack grins at Rhys' disgusted face, “Only if you are into it, but we will save it for next time, right, cupcake?”

As the ominous 'next time' echoes, Rhys can do nothing but observe as Handsome Jack undoes his belt hastily. Fuck, that's it. That's going to be the most mortifying moment of his life. He can already picture Jack laughing his ass off and calling him a freak before kicking him out. Jesus, Rhys would never live it down, Jack would probably spread it to the whole Helios.

Embarrassment coiled so tight on his gut he had to look away when his pants were pulled down. Handsome Jack stopped, as did the world. Just so he could go away with a scrap of dignity left, Rhys forces himself to open his eyes again.

Jack doesn't laugh. There is an obviously gleam on his hetero-chromatic eyes, pupils dilated as he stares at the black silk covering Rhys hard dick. The way Jack breath quickens almost imperceptible makes Rhys' anxiety die a little.

“See, Rhysie, I knew nobody in Hyperion with a face like yours would only be into vanilla shit,” Jack's voice was husky, “But this... This is really something, holy shit. This is gold.”

It's not the cruel amusement coloring his words, so Rhys decides to throw caution to the wind.

“There is more,” he spreads his legs in an invitation.

Handsome Jack wastes no time ripping of the rest of his dress pants and curses at the vision in front of him. Ok, so, maybe Rhys has a thing for lingerie in general and also likes to wear stockings sometimes. And apparently Jack has one too.

Appreciative hands roam the length of his legs, “God dammit, sweetheart. Look at you, all wrapped up like a gift. Did you plan getting into my pants today?”

Rhys can barely contain his relief, he grabs Jack's face and kisses him deeply. He had expected sex with Handsome Jack to be brutal, all teeth and nails – and he is sure it's a matter of time – but the tongue that plunges into his mouth is hot and almost lazy. The kiss makes his toes curl and he wonders why he didn't let Jack do it before.

“You are the one that jumped on me,” Rhys breathed, boldness setting on his bones, “And don't feel special, I'm always wearing those.”

“You mean for all this time my little PA was walking around dressed like this?” Jack gives a dry laugh, lowering his head to nose Rhys' neck, “Rhys, Rhysie, princess... It's a good thing your boss is giving you a day off tomorrow, cuz I'm going to fuck you until you can't walk.”

Rhys's breath hitches into a full gasp when Jack bites down, there is no gentleness and it hurts so damn good.

“It will leave a mark,” he protests weakly.

Jack doesn't stop, on the contrary he makes the point of sucking a hickie right under Rhys' ear. He would deny that little moan for the rest of his life.

“That's kind of the point, dum dum. Nobody will ever look at you straight again, they'll now exactly whose bed you are warming,” Rhys squirmed at the thought as Jack scrapes his teeth over the column of his throat, “Bet you'd like that, uh? Imagine all the gossips about the big, bad Hyperion CEO fucking his cute PA.”

He hates the way that's working for him, and he knows Jack noticed too if his mischievous giggle was anything to go by. His boss keeps lowering himself until he is kissing one of Rhys' nipple, worrying it between his lips in a way that shouldn't be so damn arousing but is seriously making his cock twitch. Jack never let's go of his deadly grip on his hips and in return Rhys takes this opportunity to lace his fingers through the silver streaked curls.

“You are totally getting off on dirty talk, aren't you? All those nerds in programming already wanted to put their dick on you, but now... And they can fucking try,” Rhys feels him smile against his chest, “I'm always up to shooting some heads or airlocking dipshits who think they can touch my things.”

Rhys refuses to admit out loud how the idea of belonging to Jack turned him on. Imagining his boss bending him over his desk and fucking him senseless, not even stuttering if someone entered on them, ripped a ragged moan from him. Rhys raises his hips, trying to get any friction on his aching erection.

“Jack, come on,” he provokes, “I thought you said something about not being able to walk.”

The older man finally raises his head, the brown curls a mess, blush creeping around the borders of his mask. He tears off his horrendous yellow sweater, giving Rhys a nice angle of his body. Jack's skin is more tanned than expected, a trail of dark hair adorning the muscles Rhys always knew were there and disappearing on the damn jeans. His shoulders are broader than Rhys' even without the clothing and makes him look much bigger on that position.

That is doing stuff to Rhys' insides and dick. His mouth feels suddenly dry and he just wants- needs Jack anywhere on him.

“I know I'm hot, pumpkin,” he snorted, “Where is that big mouth now?”

Rhys, just because he was that much of a smartass, was ready to counter where his big mouth could be if Jack hurried but was interrupted. He huffs as his whole body is turned on the mattress and he finds himself laying on his stomach. Of course Jack could manhandle him. It appears that the penalty of meeting all his standards was being a psychopath. Rhys would deal with that realization later.

“Get this pretty little ass up for me.”

He did without hesitation, supporting himself on his elbows and waiting for Jack to pull the panties down. It didn't happened. Before Rhys could get a grip on the CEO's plans, the garment was pushed to the side while he spread his cheeks, cold air hitting his entrance.

“Jack, what-”

His words were cut when something hot and wet hit it. Rhys gasps as Jack's tongue swirls around, probing his ass but never going any further. He knows there is scrambling behind him and something shuffling on his side, but he can't focus on anything for too long. There is a last lap at his entrance and he yelps at a sharp sensation on one of his cheeks.

“Did- did you just bite my ass?” Rhys tries to look over his shoulder.

Jack, the asshole, laughs and shushes him. And who is Rhys to protest while suddenly a slick finger is thrust into him without a warning?

“Someday I'm gonna eat you out until you are crying for my cock, pumpkin,” he pumps it in and out, the gentleness vanishing quickly, “But you _had_ to test my patience today.”

He tsked and added a second finger, making no effort to go slower. It started to burn and Rhys couldn't find in himself to complain, robotic fingers twisting on the covers. Soon, the third is in there and Jack is scissoring him open and Rhys is shamelessly moving his hips alongside, fucking himself on his fingers. He wants Jack to get on with it, but it is getting harder and harder to think, even more to speak.

“What do you think about being tied up one day, princess? Maybe I'll leave you here with a dildo up your cute ass to keep you full and go to work. Gonna give me an extra fuel to know what's waiting in my bed at the end of the day,” Rhys whines, the fingers inside him moving insistently, searching, “Fuck, of course you like that. We are gonna have so much fun, Rhysie.”

Rhys arches his back with a strangled cry, a hot pleasure buzzing on his lower back. He could feel Jack's smugness as he undulates his fingers on his prostate. Rhys tried to cover his mouth with his flesh hand to stop those ridiculous moans, but his wrist is caught on an iron grip and secured painfully against his back.

“No, no, no,” Jack coos, “None of that now. Lemme hear those pretty noises.”

“Jack,” Rhys moaned, “Come on.”

“What's that, sweetheart?” He twists his fingers and Rhys swears he sees stars.

“I- Jack, Jack, please... Stop teasing.”

“Why? Afraid of coming on my fingers like some bitch in heat?”

Yes. Rhys can feel his cock heavy and flushed between his tights, precum pooling uncomfortably where the silk covers the head. Neither the friction or the pressure inside him enough, slowly driving him insane.

“You are gagging to have my dick inside you,” the good thing is that Jack is also clearly affected too, trying to laugh but voice too rough to sound amused. Rhys moans at that, “I'm sorry, babe, I don't get it,” the fingers stop moving, “What do you want?”

Rhys rocks back on the unmoving hand “I want you,” the simple thought of saying that out loud deepens the blush spreading from his face to chest, he is grateful Jack can't see that, “I want you to fuck me, please. _Now._ ”

Jack doesn't joke around, removing his fingers without finesse. Rhys' heart is beating so loud on his ears he doesn't hear the bottle of lube being opened once more, or the condom. It seems to take centuries until he feels Jack's broad hands on him again, caressing his back, groping his ass and thighs and finally settling on his hips. The fat head of his cock is pressed against Rhys' entrance, nudging it playfully for a second before sinking in.

It burns so fucking good and he prayed silently for Jack to not wait for him to get used to it. Just by the pressure Rhys knows he is big, thicker than him for sure and for a moment he wishes he could've seen it. He is not aware he was holding his breath until Jack's bottoms out, pelvis flushed against the panties.

“God dammit, Rhysie,” he breaths out, “I hit the fucking kinky jackpot with you, didn't I?”

“Move,” Rhys keened.

At least Jack's patience had run thin too, he backs his hips and slam into Rhys without a trace of the previous calm. He doesn't even need to ask for Jack to go fast, the CEO never waits for him to get used before backing off and thrusting into him again, rhythm building. Rhys knows his robotic hand is tearing the sheets, he can hear the faint tearing but he couldn't care less.

Moan after broken moan is stole from him, Jack himself gasping against his ear. He is dawned with the sudden realization that he is going to come just from being fucked and that is going to ruin him to everyone else. Jack is going to ruin him.

“Jack, Jack, please,” he calls without noticing. Breath pushed from his lungs with each thrust.

“You have no idea how good you feel, babe. How is a little slut like you so freaking tight?” His pace quickens, “Or has anybody never fucked you good like this? I bet they didn't. Those idiots don't know what to do with a pretty thing like you.”

Jack pinches one of his stockings' elastic and snap it, Rhys can hear his own voice echoing through the bedroom.

“Lucky for you,” he gives a breathless laugh, “I know just how to take that smug look off your face, pumpkin.”

Rhys whines when Jack pulls out, he was so fucking close, why- Jack turns him around, putting his knees on his shoulders, kissing the back of one of them.

“I'll need to see those legs on heels one day. Dress you up in a cute skirt too and make you work like that, uh?” He brushes his cock against Rhys' ass, tantalizing, “Everything I'll need to do is bend you against a wall and have my way with you. And you, Rhysie, babe,” Jack pushes in with a single movement, “Would beg for it.”

The new pace is worse than before, it's brutal and hits Rhys' prostate spot on most the times. Jack is looming over him, braced against his head and Rhys can't do it. He can't. It's too much. The muscles on his thighs and abdomen have started to ache, he feels overheated, the silk brushing on his dick is maddening. He is vaguely aware of the tears forming on his eyes and knows his throat will be raw tomorrow by the pathetic sobs and moans he is letting out.

“Jack,” he gasps, holding the other closer and burying his fingers on his skin. He wouldn't be the one leaving sore.

The sound of their skin slapping is obscene. Rhys feels his body recoil and tense, there is not enough air.

“Come on, princess,” Jack calls, just as breathless, “Cum for me, just on my cock. Just like that.”

Jack bends his head and bites down on Rhys' shoulder, right where flesh meets metal, where is most sensitive. And that's what sends him over the edge. Rhys arches his back with a loud, broken moan, hips moving at it's own accord as he feels that whole pleasure exploding through his muscles. He feels his own release spilling, hot, across his and Jack's chest.

It's like the world ended. And Jack keeps going, his own groans deliciously close to Rhys' ears and the younger man can't help the spike of pride at hearing his name being called as Jack's hips stutter and drive in mercilessly, milking his orgasm.

In a second of after glow, Rhys decides he would ask Jack to come inside him next time. No condom.

The CEO sighs and removes himself, rolling on the bed. He gives his work a last appreciative look: Rhys looked like a fucked up mess. Face and torso flushed under the tattoos, the usually perfectly hair down. His eyes were watery, lips red and the damn lingerie was there, covering his softening dick and dirt with his semen.

Jack wouldn't mind waking up to _that_ every day.

“Damn, still with me, princess?” He plants a soft kiss on his forehead.

Rhys mumbles something unrecognizable.

“What was that?” Jack smirks, proud at making his fussy PA brainless.

“I said- You ruined my panties.”

He has to laugh at that, getting up to get a towel and clean that mess – not before giving a slap on the stock covered thighs, receiving an indignant yelp.

“Good thing your new boyfriend can buy you a whole panty store.”

Rhys smiles to himself and bury his face on the pillows. He was ruined.

 

**Author's Note:**

> just yesterday I promised myself I wouldn't write a rhack fanfic, and here I am, sinning


End file.
